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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541380">new fear will catch us unawares</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevmantle/pseuds/bevmantle'>bevmantle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Not A Game AU, Post-Canon, Shotgunning, Smoking, Trans Gordon Freeman, Trans Male Character, background established boomer, fuck it. everyone trans, i havent posted fic in 3 years can u tell? sorry, idk man this really isnt planned out i just wanted to write gordon being a mentally ill 30something, mostly frenrey but maybe also some freelatta? maybe some frenmy? who knows, no beta reader we die like men, nonbinary he/himrey, will add tags as i write</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:47:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevmantle/pseuds/bevmantle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was sometime around two a.m., and the streets, predictably, were quiet. It was a Wednesday night (Thursday morning?), so the crowds that might normally be found eating and drinking at the tables that dotted the busy neighborhood sidewalks were nowhere to be found. Most people were asleep, alarms all set for them to wake up on time for their morning commute. Gordon Freeman was doing his laundry.</p><p>AKA the postcanon fic where Gordon is just, like, some guy with problems and Benrey likes to hang out at the pinball bar. Rated T for language.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Darnold, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>195</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>chapter takes place in a bar and alcohol is mentioned but the only ppl drinking are background chars. there may be casual drinking in subsequent chapters. will add warnings as needed.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was sometime around two a.m., and the streets, predictably, were quiet. It was a Wednesday night (Thursday morning?), so the crowds that might normally be found eating and drinking at the tables that dotted the busy neighborhood sidewalks were nowhere to be found. Most people were asleep, alarms all set for them to wake up on time for their morning commute. Gordon Freeman was doing his laundry.</p><p>It had been a month or so since the resonance cascade. Black Mesa had shut down operations in all but name; they still sent Gordon semi-regular paychecks, presumably to keep him quiet, but besides that, things were pretty much dea—<i>quiet</i>. Things were <i>quiet</i>. Gordon, somewhat to his chagrin, was very much alive. And people who were alive needed clean laundry.</p><p>Getting back to any semblance of a regular schedule, though, was proving to be really rough. Gordon had trouble sleeping through the night; when he woke up, he was still tired. He hadn’t been able to find a competent therapist. Joshie was staying with his mom until Gordon could “get his shit together,” which, to Gordon, was more of a depressing ultimatum than any sort of actual motivation. It was tough for him to keep up with everyday tasks like <i>grocery shopping</i> and <i>cleaning the apartment</i> and <i>doing laundry,</i> because, to be honest, he just felt like he shouldn’t be here at all. The whole thing had been so, so fucked. How was he supposed to just act like—like it hadn’t happened? So what if his apartment got dusty! Like, honestly, fuck it—it was hard enough keeping himself alive. Hence the two a.m. laundry run—it was literally the only time he felt like he had the energy to do it.</p><p>Gordon’s neighborhood, like much of the city where he lived, was in the process of being gentrified. As a result, a lot of places that catered to the younger, wealthier crowd stayed open pretty late. And a lot of them were weird, trying-too-hard-to-be-hip places, like the overpriced thrift store-slash-coffee shop, and the vegetarian sushi bar that was entirely staffed by white people, and the laundromat-slash-pinball arcade-slash-speakeasy (like, why was that even a <i>thing?)</i> where Gordon currently found himself. The prices? Were not low. And the vibes? Were not good. <i>But</i> it was the only laundry place that was open past eight p.m., so Gordon didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to have clean underwear. He dumped his laundry into the machine, put his quarters in, and plunked down in a seat, attempting to ignore the sounds of couples chatting at the bar and the little <i>pings</i> and <i>beeps</i> being emitted from the (admittedly impressive) selection of pinball machines.</p><p>Gordon pulled out his phone and fiddled around with it, just opening apps and closing them again. Most of his social media feeds were kinda dead; it was two in the morning, so he figured everyone was sleeping. It looked like Tommy might be awake—he had tweeted a picture of Sunkist twenty minutes ago—but he hadn’t posted since then, probably engrossed in whatever TV show he was currently binge-watching. Gordon tried to remember; last week it had been <i>Pushing Daisies,</i> he thought maybe this week was <i>Succession?</i> Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Gordon was bored out of his fucking <i>mind</i> and literally had nothing better to do than watch his laundry spin. Ugh. He opened his photos and scrolled through them idly. Old meme, old meme, Snapchat from Tommy he had saved because it was cute, old meme, blurry photo of Bubby giving him the finger, awkward selfie, awkward selfie, good selfie, old meme. Gordon exhaled and swiped out of his photos, sliding his phone back into his sweatshirt pocket. Feeling pretty out of it, he finally took a look around the laundromat (slash bar slash arcade? It was unclear which one took precedence).</p><p>The whole place was dim; not quite smoky, but like—blurred, somehow? Or maybe Gordon’s glasses were just dirty? His head felt like it was full of cotton. He blinked, taking a deep breath to steady himself. There were a few guys hanging out at the bar, drinking beers and watching the game on a muted TV. The bartender, who was wiping the inside of a pint glass with a towel, caught Gordon staring, and raised an eyebrow. Gordon looked away, embarrassed. He looked at the people hanging out around the pinball machines. One couple was taking turns on the Elvira machine; another person was playing on the Tron machine, looking serious; and a small group of guys were drinking and laughing around, uh, whatever the zombie-themed one was.</p><p>Gordon jumped when one of the machines towards the back of the bar suddenly started clanging and flashing. Shit, someone must have gotten the high score. He craned his neck, trying to get a better look at the player—and snapped his head back so fast his neck cracked. <i>Absolutely</i> not. No. No! Fucking <i>Benrey?</i> Here? Now? While Gordon’s underwear were spinning around? Christ. Gordon refused to accept it. Jesus, his heart was fucking <i>pounding.</i> But whatever! It was whatever. That’s not Benrey. Benrey, like, <i>died.</i> Or something. </p><p>“Yoooo,” Benrey called across the room to the bartender. “Put my name up on the wall, maaann. Gotta new all-time high score.”</p><p>Gordon’s fists clenched in the fabric of his sweatpants. Oh God. <i>God.</i> This was seriously some of all the <i>fucking</i> gin joints shit! Like, okay, fine, it was fine, okay. Gordon could feel himself sweating. The pinball machines seemed too loud, suddenly. The guys at the zombie machine were roughhousing a little, and Gordon saw one of them slop some beer on the floor. Okay, so he had to get out of here <i>now,</i> that’s cool. It’s cool! His laundry was mostly washed anyway. Mostly clean means mostly not dirty. It’s fine! Gordon stood up and yanked the washer door open, stopping the machine in the middle of the cycle. He started shoving wet clothes back into his laundry bag, ignoring the drips sliding up his sleeves and the puddle forming on the floor. Gordon checked to make sure he had all his stuff, hoisting his laundry bag up onto his shoulder. <i>It’s fine, he didn’t see you, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine—</i></p><p>“Uh,” Benrey said. “Hey man. Uh, I think those are yours, please?”</p><p>Gordon stared at him, feeling half-crazed. Benrey was pointing at a soggy pair of Black Mesa Brand™ printed boxer briefs that were laying on the ground in the puddle from Gordon’s laundry.</p><p>“That’s not mine,” Gordon said, slightly too loud.</p><p>“Uh—I think your laundry’s not even done, bro.”</p><p>Gordon gripped the strap of his laundry bag tighter, feeling the wetness seeping through his shirt onto his back. “It’s done, actually.”</p><p>Benrey stared at him. “Alright, man.”</p><p>“Alright.” Gordon didn’t move.</p><p>“Cool. Uh, good talk.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Whuh?”</p><p>“I’m gonna leave now,” Gordon said, his heart hammering in his chest. He shoved past Benrey and left the laundromat, walking as fast as he could despite being weighed down by his sopping-wet clothes. He made it back to his apartment, dumped his laundry bag into his bathtub and collapsed into his bed, body heaving with dry sobs. <i>Fuuuuck.</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tommy comes over to help gordon fold laundry and process emotions healthily. mild freelatta this chapter. benrey will return...soon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon woke up late and didn’t get out of bed again until almost the whole day had passed. Even then, he only got up because one, he was starting to doomscroll; and two, the guilt and anxiety from leaving all the wet laundry in his tub was eating away at his brain. He staggered into the bathroom, looked at the laundry without really seeing it, and plunked down on the toilet. He swiped out of Twitter to look at the texts from Tommy that he’d been ignoring.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>(11:43 a.m.) tommy🥤: gmorning!! do u still wanna hang out today</p>
  <p>(11:56 a.m.) tommy🥤: o just realized ur probably still sleeping! txt me when u wake up :-)</p>
  <p>(2:24 p.m.) tommy🥤: u doin ok?</p>
  <p>(5:32 p.m.) tommy🥤: hey, no pressure, but pls txt me when u can! hope ur alright!</p>
</blockquote><p>Gordon looked at the time—it was almost eight. He tapped out a message to Tommy.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>(7:47 p.m.) gordon: hey</p>
  <p>(7:49 p.m.) gordon: im ok. had a weird night</p>
</blockquote><p>Gordon saw three dots appear almost instantly as Tommy typed his reply. He put his phone down on the counter, stood up and flushed the toilet. Gordon heard his phone buzz while he was washing his hands. He eyed the laundry in his tub once more before thinking <em> fuck it </em> and leaving the bathroom, instead heading into the living room and flopping down on the couch. He unlocked his phone to read Tommy’s texts.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>(7:49 p.m.) tommy🥤: hi!!!</p>
  <p>(7:49 p.m.) tommy🥤: did u eat already? i can bring pizza</p>
</blockquote><p>Gordon closed his eyes and thanked God for Tommy Coolatta.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>(7:58 p.m.) gordon: that would be seriously awesome</p>
  <p>(7:58 p.m.) gordon: come over whenever</p>
  <p>(7:59 p.m.) tommy🥤: omg ok!!</p>
  <p>(7:59 p.m.) tommy🥤: be there in 20 ;-)</p>
</blockquote><p>Gordon briefly considered trying to tidy things up, but figured it didn’t really matter. His energy levels were near zero, and besides, it wasn’t like Tommy was going to judge him. He <em> did </em> put on a clean shirt, though—he wasn’t an <em> animal</em>. Gordon was partway through a rerun episode of <em> Tiny House Nation </em> when his apartment buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, wiped his hands down his shirt, and went to get the door.</p><p>“Hey, man, what’s up?” he said, letting Tommy in.</p><p>“Hi!” Tommy said, brandishing a pizza box as he kicked his shoes off in the hallway. “I brought you a, um, <em> Meat Lover’s Slice!” </em></p><p>“Oh shit,” Gordon said, eyes wide. “<em>Fuck </em> yes. Thanks.”</p><p>“There’s also, uh, mushroom and pepperoni, and s—Hawaiian? I think. I don’t know, uh, I think some of them are leftover from Dr. Coomer, I had lunch together with him and Dr. Bubby, I hope that’s okay!”</p><p>Gordon took the proffered box and turned, letting Tommy follow him into the apartment. He dropped the box on the kitchen table and opened it up. “This looks great. Tommy, I seriously owe you one.”</p><p>“It’s no problem!” Tommy waved a hand, flopping back onto the couch.</p><p>“Want anything to drink?” Gordon asked, moving to open the fridge. “I have, uh—actually, I think I still have some cans of that soda from the corner store you liked. If you want that.”</p><p>If anyone asked, Gordon was one hundred percent prepared to lie, but the fancy soda was actually one of the only things he kept stocked in his fridge, just in case Tommy came over.</p><p>“Oh, the lemon-lime one?” Tommy’s eyes were shining. “Please!”</p><p>“Yeah, man, absolutely. Comin’ right up.” Gordon grabbed a can of soda for Tommy, and a Powerade for himself. He passed the can over, grabbed his plate, and sat down on the couch next to Tommy. Gordon’s couch was kind of small, and Tommy was lanky, so their knees touched a little, but neither of them seemed to mind. And after two slices of pizza, a bottle of blue Powerade, and some updates from Tommy on Sunkist’s favorite <em> Succession </em>episodes, Gordon felt almost like the events of the previous night had been just some kind of horrible trauma dream. He put his dish down on the coffee table with a contented sigh. He saw Tommy sit up a little straighter, which meant—</p><p>“Do you want to talk about, um—how have you been?” Tommy asked.</p><p>“Oh, uh, yeah. We can talk about it.” Gordon thought for a moment. “I’ve been like...not great?”</p><p>“You said—you said you had a weird night,” Tommy said. Gordon could tell that Tommy was trying to keep the concern out of his voice and make it sound like a regular question. He was mostly successful.</p><p>Gordon exhaled. “Yeah. I don’t even know where to start.”</p><p>“At the beginning,” Tommy supplied.</p><p>Gordon laughed, surprising himself. “Okay, that’s fair. Uh, so I was doing some late laundry, cause I haven’t...been able to do it lately. And I finally, like, had energy to go out? So I went to that laundry place I was telling you about, the dumb, like, pinball bar?”</p><p>“Oh! The one with the—with the <em> Ghostbusters </em> pinball?” Tommy loved <em> Ghostbusters, </em> Gordon remembered belatedly. Egon was his favorite.</p><p>“Yeah! Yeah, that one. So, uh, I was like, doing laundry. It was whatever. I was like kinda zoning out, I guess. And then I looked up, and Tommy. <em> Tommy</em>. Fucking <em> guess </em> who was there.”</p><p>Tommy’s eyes were wide. “Like you had a—a celebrity encounter?”</p><p>“A celeb—no, dude. I saw fucking <em> Benrey</em>.”</p><p>Tommy’s hands flew up to his face in shock. “But wasn’t he—I thought you ki—I mean, I thought he was gone?”</p><p>“Fuckin’. Yeah,” Gordon said. “Me <em> too.</em>”</p><p>Tommy frowned. “Well, I guess—I don’t know, a lot of things are sort of—I mean, your hand came back? S-So maybe Benrey is like that?”</p><p>Gordon stared at his hand, flexing it and feeling a weird phantom shiver run up his arm. “Yeah. Maybe.”</p><p>“Did you talk to him? Are you okay?”</p><p>“No, uh—well, kinda?” Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose. “He like, tried to tell me that I dropped my underwear on the floor but I said it wasn’t mine and I left. And those were my <em> good </em> underwear! And I didn’t get to finish drying my laundry. And then I came home and, like, died.”</p><p>“That sounds awful!” Tommy processed the rest of what Gordon had said. “Wait, is your—did you leave your clothes there?”</p><p>“Besides the underwear?” Gordon sighed. “No, it’s, uh—it’s all in my bathtub. I think it’s all still really wet. I dunno, I just like—I can’t deal with it, man. You know?”</p><p>Tommy nodded, completely serious. “I think we should—we should take this one thing at a time!”</p><p>Gordon snorted. “Yeah, man. Be my guest.”</p><p>“Okay,” Tommy stood up. “I want to—I’m gonna hang up your laundry for you,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, uh,” Gordon flushed. “No, man, it’s cool, you don’t gotta do that. ‘S all, like, gross and wet.”</p><p>“It’s okay! You should let me, ‘cause—’cause you’ll feel better once it’s done. I know!”</p><p>Gordon rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean...I guess you’re probably right. Uh, I can help, though. Not gonna make you touch my weird undies. Or whatever.”</p><p>Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You—you have <em> weird undies?” </em></p><p>Gordon wheezed. “No!”</p><p>“Then why did you say that?” Tommy looked stricken.</p><p>“Because, man! I was just embarrassed about you going through my underwear, I <em> promise </em> there’s nothing weird in there. I swear! It’s all regular!”</p><p>“Aw,” Tommy shook his head. “I, uh, I wanted to see!”</p><p>Gordon snorted. He reached up, taking the hand Tommy offered him, and allowed himself to be pulled up off the couch. He and Tommy walked down the hall to the bathroom, where Tommy plunked down on his knees next to the tub and started to empty the laundry bag.</p><p>After about a half hour, Gordon’s damp clothes were hanging up to dry. Tommy had been right—Gordon <em> did </em>feel better.</p><p>“I feel better,” he said to Tommy.</p><p>“See?” Tommy looked proud. “I told you! Sometimes you just—you just need some help.”</p><p>Gordon couldn’t answer. There was suddenly a weird lump in his throat. He nodded, hoping Tommy wouldn’t notice. Tommy noticed.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Tommy said, putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Asking your—asking for help is hard.”</p><p>Gordon felt tears prick his eyes. <em> Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry</em>—</p><p>“It’s okay!” Tommy said. “If you have to cry, I mean. I cry all the time, it’s natural, I’m a <em> pisces!” </em></p><p>Gordon pitched forward into Tommy’s chest, somehow both laughing and sobbing at the same time. He let Tommy hold him like that for a little while, rubbing his back gently. Occasionally Tommy would say something else about astrology, or Sunkist, or some article he had read online, not needing or expecting an answer from Gordon, just kind of talking to make noise. It was nice, like a blanket between Gordon and the worst parts of his mind; just kind of softening and softening all the sharp bits until everything, finally, felt bearable. Gordon sniffed.</p><p>“Do you feel better?” Tommy asked.</p><p>“Yh,” Gordon croaked. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Um. Thanks.”</p><p>“Anytime,” Tommy said. He squeezed Gordon. “I mean it.”</p><p>Gordon squeezed back. “Tommy, what do you think I should do about—about Benrey?”</p><p>“Oh,” Tommy frowned against the top of Gordon’s head. “Was he—he was there trying to talk to you?”</p><p>“I mean...no?” Gordon said. “He was just, like, there. Playing pinball. I think he was playing the 60s Batman one.”</p><p>“Maybe it really was just a random meeting!” Tommy said. “Maybe he doesn’t want to, um, talk to you, either.”</p><p>Gordon signed. “Yeah. Maybe? I mean, I guess, if he’s just been living in the same neighborhood as me this whole time and I never saw him at all until yesterday...God. You know, I really hope so.”</p><p>“Would it s—be really bad?” Tommy asked. “To talk to him?”</p><p>“I...” Gordon started, but trailed off, realizing he didn’t know the answer. “I don’t know, Tommy.”</p><p>Tommy nodded. “It’s okay.” He hugged Gordon once more, then stood up, pulling Gordon up with him. “I should—I mean, if you’re feeling better, I should probably get home, so I can check on Sunkist.”</p><p>Gordon thought about it, decided he was as feeling as good as he could be considering everything about his life, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay. Probably just gonna watch TV till I pass out.”</p><p>“Okay,” Tommy said. “Will you, um, text me tomorrow?”</p><p>Gordon blushed. “Okay. Yeah. I will.”</p><p>“Okay. That’s great!”</p><p>Gordon helped Tommy get his stuff together, hugged him one more time, and waved him out the door. He felt—like, not horrible? Definitely not the way he felt last night. He mostly just felt <em> drained.</em> But talking to Tommy had helped. Honestly, just being around Tommy did wonders for him regardless. Gordon regretted, briefly, the fact that he hadn’t seen much of his friends recently. Tommy had mentioned that he had had lunch with Bubby and Coomer—when was the last time Gordon had hung out with the science team, like, for fun? He couldn’t remember, and resolved to plan, like, a dinner, or <em> something, </em> soon. God, okay, so maybe his problem was that he was just fucking <em> lonely</em>.</p><p>But you know what? At least, for right now, he was alright. Gordon grabbed one of the leftover slices of pizza (broccoli and olive, definitely Bubby’s), got comfy with another episode of <em> Tiny House Nation</em>, and let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>writing for tommy is HARD so i hope i did ok. thank u for readinggg</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon goes on a grocery run. return of benrey. return of gordon's mega depression. i swear we'll get back to the pinball bar eventually</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next couple of days, to Gordon’s surprise, felt almost normal in a way he hadn’t experienced since—God, since before the resonance cascade. Was that true? Gordon felt like it might be. Jeez, was he <em> that </em> depressed? Then again, he figured having to fight a bunch of aliens, getting his hand cut off and then regrowing it, killing his f—someone he had trusted, and, to top it all off, losing his job <em> kinda </em> entitled him to a bit of a depressive episode. But, whatever. He hoped that the good mood would stick. And, hey—he had barely even <em> thought </em> about Benrey. Like, he only thought about him while he was in the shower. And when he couldn’t sleep. And once when he saw a promoted tweet about the PlayStation 5. But seriously, that was <em> it</em>. Hardly thinking of him at all!</p><p>The problem was, Gordon could pretty much only keep that up while he was inside. He had stepped out to get some groceries for the first time in—uh, probably weeks? He couldn’t remember, but his fridge was looking really sad. Gordon got his reusable tote bags together, pulled his shoes on, stepped outside and suddenly started full-blown <em> freaking out </em> because, holy shit dude, what if Benrey was <em> also </em> out grabbing some overstock ramen at the Grocery Outlet? And Gordon <em> knew </em> he looked like shit, but come on! He was just running over to Grocery Outlet and right back home, you couldn’t expect him to, like, <em> dress up </em> for that! Okay, hang on, deep breaths. Deeeep breaths. Gordon was <em>not </em> going to see Benrey at Grocery Outlet because Gordon had <em> never </em> seen Benrey at Grocery Outlet. That fucker probably only shopped at—at like, 7-11 or something. Probably ate nothing but Doritos and Mountain Dew. Gordon blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. He could <em> do </em> this. Look, he was an enlightened man. He was on a mission for a spicy chicken ramen twelve-pack, and he would <em> not </em> be deterred by some—some <em> stupid </em> bogeyman of a security guard.</p><p>Gordon struggled through and successfully managed the trip to Grocery Outlet. <em> Hell </em> yeah. See? No Benrey. He had totally been worried for nothing. And that feeling kept him going for the rest of the week whenever he had to make little trips out here and there: gotta grab more oat milk, oh shit there’s no more toilet paper, that kind of thing. Each time Gordon was able to successfully venture out and not see Benrey was another small victory. He had been talking to Tommy more, too, and even texting Bubby and Dr. Coomer here and there. Dr. Coomer was a notorious double (and triple, and quadruple) texter, but had no problem with Gordon vanishing for hours or days before sending a reply. Bubby, on the other hand, didn’t actually say much, but would send Gordon memes. A lot of memes. Anyway, it was actually kind of...really nice. Gordon felt like he had friends again. Tommy had even asked him if he wanted to come over for dinner with the rest of the Science Team plus Darnold, but Gordon still felt kind of—apprehensive? Nervous?—about being around everyone in person again, so he asked Tommy if they could do it another time; God bless him, Tommy understood and didn’t press it.</p><p>Eventually, Gordon resigned himself to the fact that he would have to actually Go Food Shopping at some point, like at a non-Grocery-Outlet-store. He was tired of having to run out every couple of days for stuff, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have the money. All that in mind, Gordon put a list together and mentally prepared himself to Go To Trader Joe’s. He gave himself a full day just to get groceries, and permission to order takeout from his favorite Thai place afterwards; he knew that going out and being in a crowded store was going to take all his energy, and that he was most likely going to be exhausted afterwards.</p><p>When the day came, Gordon dragged himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, showered, and even trimmed his beard so that the other people in Trader Joe’s wouldn’t judge him too much. Look, it’s not like he <em> cared</em>, really, just that it would be easier if he made himself blend in more. Trader Joe’s was stupid, anyway. There were always tons of white moms shopping there and they would always glare at him, which sucked; plus, the company itself was anti-union, which made Gordon feel kinda shitty about shopping there. But also, like, he really really needed to buy some food that wasn’t instant ramen, Grocery Outlet’s stock was unpredictable, and he was seriously craving some of those fancy peanut butter cups. Besides, he had already told Tommy he was planning on making a TJ’s run, and Tommy had texted him excitedly with a couple requests for things he wanted Gordon to pick up for him. Gordon finished putting his hair up, sighed, and went to get his tote bags ready.</p><p>The store...was both better and worse than Gordon had prepared for. Better in that it wasn’t, like, <em> super </em> crowded, but worse in that Gordon needed way more stuff than he thought he did, and it was taking him a long time to find everything. He eventually did, though, and finally got on line to pay, grabbing a couple packs of peanut butter cups once he was close enough to reach. The line moved pretty fast, and soon it was his turn to pay. It wasn’t until he was handing his stuff over to the cashier that he realized: <em> Fuck! I forgot to get Tommy’s peaches! How did I forget? </em></p><p>“Hey, I’m so, so sorry, but I totally forgot something,” Gordon said to the cashier. “Is it okay if I—I’ll run really fast! I just gotta grab, uh—I’ll be right back!” He threw down his tote bags and left the cashier to ring up the rest of his stuff while he practically ran back to the produce. He yanked a washable produce bag out of his pocket and started shoving peaches into it. He was a little too forceful, though, and his elbow accidentally knocked some pears off the shelf next to him.</p><p>“Shit!” Gordon knelt to pick up the pears, straining to reach one that had started rolling under the display.</p><p>“Uh...hey,” came a voice from above him. “You, uh, need a hand with that?”</p><p>Fucking. Not <em>now.</em> Fuck<em>.</em> <em>Shit.</em></p><p>“No,” Gordon said through gritted teeth. Fuck it. That pear? Lost forever, rest in peace. He clambered to his feet, looking around for—</p><p>Benrey held the bag of peaches out to him. Gordon grabbed it.</p><p>Not <em> again</em>. “Why the <em> fuck </em> are you <em> here?” </em>Gordon spat.</p><p>Benrey blinked. “Uh...need food to live?”</p><p>“No! Why are <em> you</em>—” Gordon gestured at him. <em> “Here?” </em> He made a sweeping motion with the arm that wasn’t holding the bag of peaches. He suddenly realized there was a half-full basket on the floor next to Benrey’s foot. “Fucking, buying—buying <em> fruit</em>, and shit?”</p><p>Benrey looked at him blankly. “Sometimes a bitch wants some fruit, bro. Gotta get those, uh, antioxidants.”</p><p>Gordon wheezed out a desperate sort of laugh. “You—alright, you know what, I <em> don’t care</em>. I don’t have time for <em> this</em>, or <em> you </em>.”</p><p>“I didn’t, uh—I wasn’t doing anything? I was just, like, here buying fruit? And I saw you start dropping your shit everywhere,” Benrey said. “Clumsy, uh, clumsy ass. First day with the—with the new hand, or what?”</p><p>Gordon wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. “Look, Benrey. Benrey. Can we—can we just, like. I wanna <em> stop </em> fucking meeting like this, okay?”</p><p>“Huh? Whuh?” Benrey took a second to process. “This is a public—public place, man. ‘S just random.”</p><p>“F—shut up!” Gordon nearly threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what, even if I <em> did </em> want to play catch-up with you right now—which, trust me, I really, <em> really </em> don’t, okay—I have to go <em> pay </em> for my <em> shit!” </em></p><p>“That’s cool, man,” Benrey said. “Uh, be my guest?”</p><p>“Great! Goodbye!” Gordon spun on his heel, leaving Benrey somewhere behind him as he hurried back to the registers. He heard Benrey start singing in that weird voice of his—uh, Black Mesa Sweet Voice?—but Gordon flat-out <em> refused </em> to look at him. The singing abruptly cut off. <em> It’s cool, Gordon. You’re fine. Compartmentalize that shit. Pay for groceries now, freak out later. You got this, you’re totally solid. It’s fine. </em></p><p>“Sorry,” Gordon panted as he handed the bag of peaches over for the bored-looking cashier to weigh. “Uh, how much do I owe you?” The rest of Gordon’s food was already bagged up and ready. The person on line behind him looked kind of annoyed, but for once Gordon honestly couldn’t care less. He made it through the rest of the transaction, grabbed his bags, and fucking <em> booked </em> it towards the exit so he wouldn’t have to see Benrey again. Right before he left, though, Gordon made the mistake (was it a mistake?) of looking back, just once, and if he’d been Lot’s wife he would’ve turned into a pillar of salt. He saw just the faintest shimmer of Benrey’s Sweet Voice still hanging in the air. Huh. Well, whatever. No time to think about it now.</p><p>Gordon made it home, got his groceries put away, ordered dinner, and was actually kinda proud of himself for not just, like, completely losing it. Maybe it was because the initial shock of Benrey <em> not being dead </em> had already worn off after their first meeting in the pinball bar; maybe it was because Gordon’s mind had, for better or worse, tried to convince him that he was going to see Benrey every time he stepped out of the house for the last week and a half. Whatever the reason was, Gordon didn’t feel as hopelessly <em> lost </em> as he had last time. He just felt—ugh, what did he feel? A lot of things. He needed to, like, categorize. Okay, so:</p><p>Angry? Definitely. Gordon was fucking pissed, which, was not new when it came to Benrey. Mostly because Benrey had tried to <em> kill him. </em> So yeah. Angry.</p><p>Scared? Maybe. Gordon didn’t really want to admit it, but yeah, kind of. Okay. Scared of Benrey? It wasn’t like—like Benrey had tried to <em> do </em>anything to him. Gordon was willing to bet whatever fear he had was partially residual and partly just due to, like, the surprise factor. So, okay, whatever. Sure.</p><p>And...there was something else, but Gordon couldn’t really put his finger on it. It was kinda like...anxiety? Apprehension? He felt it, deep down in the pit of his stomach. For some reason, it made him remember the glimpse of Sweet Voice he had caught on his way out of the store. He grabbed his phone so he could send Tommy a text.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>(5:24 p.m.) gordon: hey tommy</p>
  <p>(5:24 p.m.) gordon: got ur peaches</p>
  <p>(5:25 p.m.) tommy🥤: oh yay! thanks!! :-)</p>
  <p>(5:25 p.m.) gordon: hey can i.. ask you a question</p>
  <p>(5:25 p.m.) tommy🥤: oh sure! shoot</p>
  <p>(5:27 p.m.) gordon: you speak sweet voice right</p>
  <p>(5:28 p.m.) gordon: whats uh</p>
  <p>(5:28 p.m.) gordon: what does orange to blue mean</p>
  <p>(5:30 p.m.) tommy🥤: oh huh</p>
  <p>(5:30 p.m.) tommy🥤: ok i think its</p>
  <p>(5:30 p.m.) tommy🥤: orange to blue means.. i really miss u :(</p>
  <p>(5:31 p.m.) tommy🥤: hey are u learning sweet voice? thats so cool!! u can practice w me and sunkist! :-)</p>
  <p>(5:38 p.m.) gordon: oh no. im not, sorry</p>
  <p>(5:38 p.m.) gordon: i just saw it somewhere. and i was wondering</p>
  <p>(5:38 p.m.) tommy🥤: aw! no worries!</p>
  <p>(5:40 p.m.) tommy🥤: hey, is everything ok?</p>
  <p>(5:47 p.m.) gordon: yeah. its cool</p>
  <p>(5:47 p.m.) gordon: thanks tommy. ttyl?</p>
  <p>(5:47 p.m.) tommy🥤: sure anytime! txt me whenever!!</p>
</blockquote><p>Gordon threw his phone down on the cushion next to him. He stared at it for a moment, not sure if he had too many thoughts in his head or none at all. Then he sighed, pulled the elastic out of his hair, and put his head in his hands. Gordon sat like that, not really moving, until the delivery person arrived with his food. He ate silently, too preoccupied to find a TV show. When he finished, he cast one more glance at his phone before leaving it on the couch and retreating to his bedroom.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the sweet voice translation comes from... my head, sorry if its inconsistent w popular fanon interpretation LOL</p><p>silly process stuff from while i was writing this chapter: some <a href="https://jewishbubby.tumblr.com/post/624869714907250688">tweets</a> and a <a href="https://jewishbubby.tumblr.com/post/624869876384874496/completely-self-indulgent-meme-i-made-while">meme</a></p><p>also i listened to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71ZHVmSuBJM">regret by new order</a> a bunch of times while i was writing this, enjoy the frenrey feelz</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon third-wheels tommy and darnolds date night but its cool, actually</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, but hang on,” Darnold said. “How many times did you say you listened to Sorrow by The National?”</p><p>“I mean,” Gordon said. “Kind of a lot? But there was that performance where they played it for six hours, so like, it’s cool. I’m, uh...appreciating art.”</p><p>“Hmm. Yeah, I know about that. But I think you’re just depressed,” Darnold said.</p><p>Gordon heaved a sigh, sinking deeper into the couch. “Yeah, man, you’re probably right. I dunno.”</p><p>After being holed up in his apartment for a couple of days, Gordon had finally let Tommy convince him into coming over for dinner. Tommy had invited Darnold over, too; Gordon took it to mean that Tommy, in his own way, was sort of asking Gordon’s blessing. Gordon liked Darnold a lot, actually, and was genuinely happy for them. He was a little—sad, or something? But the fact that Tommy still wanted to hang out with him went a long way towards reassuring Gordon that he wasn’t about to get ghosted or anything. And so what, he could deal with being a little sad. It wasn’t like—well. It wasn’t like Gordon had made any <em> moves </em> , or anything. So he had nothing to complain about. <em> So, </em> here he was. Third wheeling at date night. But it was chill! Totally chill. Shit, Darnold was right, he really was depressed.</p><p>Anyway, dinner had been well and truly over for a while, but they had gotten to talking, and Gordon hadn’t noticed any signals from either Tommy and Darnold telling him he should leave. So he stayed.</p><p>“Does anyone want another soda?” Tommy asked from the kitchen.</p><p>Gordon shook his head. “I’m good,” he said to Darnold.</p><p>“Just me, Tommy,” Darnold called back. “You know which one I like!”</p><p>“I sure do!” Tommy said, voice muffled as he rooted around in the fridge.</p><p>Gordon sighed again. Tommy and Darnold made a good pair.</p><p>“Incoming!” Tommy vaulted over the back of the couch, landing neatly between Gordon and Darnold with a giggle. He handed Darnold a soda, took a sip of his own, then rested his free hand on Gordon’s knee. “Okay, so,” he said. “What are you going to do? About the—about Benrey?”</p><p>Gordon groaned. “Maybe I should move. My lease is up in, uh...seven months. That’s not <em> that </em> long, right? I think I could break it. My neighborhood kinda sucks now anyway.”</p><p>“That seems a little extreme,” Darnold said.</p><p>“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Why not—why don’t you just, uh, talk to him?” To his credit, he only sounded a little exasperated.</p><p>“Ughhhh,” Gordon said. “He’s just so—every time I see him, it’s like. He’s <em> so </em> put together. And he’s definitely doing it on purpose! Like he <em> knows </em> that my life sucks right now.”</p><p>Tommy and Darnold looked at each other.</p><p>“Where did you see him, again?” Darnold asked.</p><p>“Fuckin’—Trader Joes! And the stupid pinball laundry place.”</p><p>“Um,” Tommy leaned forward, putting his soda down on a coaster. His hand squeezed Gordon’s knee. “Did you ever—like, maybe he’s also, um, running errands? And stuff?”</p><p>“Hah. No, there’s no way, he <em> has </em>to be doing it to get under my skin.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not sure,” Darnold said. “Just—it doesn’t sound like he’s actually done anything to you? No offense, but...if he is trying to mess with you, wouldn’t he be...uh, more annoying?”</p><p>“He’s playing the long game! It’s <em> just </em> like him!”</p><p>Tommy frowned. “No, I, uh, I think Darnold is right,” he said. “I think it’s just, um, coincidence. Besides, it’s not like you’ve—like <em> you’ve </em> been nice to him either! He might also—he might be just as uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Gordon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wait, whose side are you on right now?”</p><p>“Yours!” Tommy said, sounding distressed. “But he was my friend, too, and I miss him! <em> And </em> I don’t want you to be d—to be sad anymore!”</p><p>“Yeah, well, he <em> told </em> me that you like mean people!” Gordon snapped.</p><p>Tommy crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Gordon. Gordon felt his ears get hot.</p><p>“I—” Gordon started, but faltered and broke off.</p><p>Tommy just kept staring at him.</p><p>Darnold slurped his soda a little too loudly and grimaced. “Sorry.”</p><p>Gordon deflated, looking away. “Fine. Point taken.”</p><p>Tommy still didn’t say anything.</p><p>Gordon rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking back to meet Tommy’s. “Uh, I’m. I’m sorry. For snapping at you.”</p><p>Tommy unfolded his arms. “Apology accepted.”</p><p>Gordon stared at the beads of condensation sliding down Tommy’s soda can, suddenly very aware of how dark it was outside and how long he had been there. “Uh...I guess it’s pretty late. I should go. Sorry for being such a downer.”</p><p>Tommy’s hand shot out and grabbed Gordon’s. “No, it’s—I don’t want you to <em> leave! </em> I want to help you feel better.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Darnold said and cleared his throat. “I know I don’t know you as well as Tommy does, but, well, sounds like things are rough right now, and I’m here for you, too.”</p><p>Gordon blinked, unable to look at either of them and feeling just utterly trapped in his own negative thoughts. <em> He’s lying, they’re both lying. Why should they care about me? All I do is whine about my problems and cry to Tommy. They have each other. They don’t need me. </em></p><p>“It’s—it’s true,” Tommy said. He squeezed Gordon’s hand tightly. Gordon stared down at their linked hands. “You should stay here tonight.”</p><p>Gordon blinked. <em> Huh? </em> “No, I—I don’t want to impose, or—I mean, you’ve got a whole thing going on, it’s fine.”</p><p>Tommy stood, pulling Gordon up with him. Darnold stood up, too. Then Tommy started marching down the hall, dragging Gordon along behind him. When they got to Tommy’s room, he detached his hand from Gordon’s to gently shove him inside.</p><p>“What’s—Tommy?”</p><p>“Honestly, I—you just need to get some <em> rest </em>,” Tommy said. “And you and Benrey should—should talk to each other.”</p><p>Gordon made a face, but Tommy had turned away to rummage through the dresser and didn’t see.</p><p>“Here,” Tommy said, turning back to Gordon and handing him some spare pajamas. “The bathroom is through there, go put those on.” He gave Gordon another little push in the direction of the bathroom before Gordon could say anything.</p><p>Gordon went to the bathroom and put the pajamas on. When he reentered the main room, Tommy and Darnold were also both wearing pajamas and Darnold was lying on one side of the bed, checking his phone. Tommy clambered into the middle of the bed and patted the empty space next to him. Gordon’s heart hurt.</p><p>“Uh, so—” Gordon started.</p><p>“Gordon,” Darnold said. “It’s fine.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I—”</p><p>“It’s <em> fine, </em>” Tommy said. “Can you turn out the light?”</p><p>Gordon closed his mouth, went to turn off the light, and got into the bed. Tommy wiggled happily in the middle. Darnold slung an arm around Tommy’s waist, and Gordon found his hand once more entwined with Tommy’s. He was...confused. But happy? But also confused.</p><p>“Can we, uh. Can we talk about this later?” he mumbled.</p><p>“Later,” Tommy promised, punctuating the statement with a yawn. “Besides, you’re, uh, you’re bad at talking. You talk a lot but you—you’re bad at it.”</p><p>Gordon felt himself blush. “Okay, maybe? But I—”</p><p><em> “Later,” </em> Tommy insisted, squeezing Gordon’s hand. “We’re sleeping now.” He sat up slightly and gave a short whistle. A moment later, Sunkist pushed the door open and padded into the room. Gordon felt the mattress dip dramatically as Sunkist jumped up to settle at their feet. He was...so comfortable. Really comfortable. God, he missed sleeping next to another person. He turned his head and yawned into Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy kissed the top of his head, then turned his head to kiss Darnold.</p><p>“G’night, both of you,” Darnold said from his side of the bed.</p><p>“Night!” Tommy said.</p><p>“Uh—goodnight,” Gordon said.</p><p>“Love you both!” Tommy said.</p><p>“Love you too, Tommy,” Darnold said, sounding amused.</p><p>“I—yeah,” Gordon said, mouth dry. “Love you, Tommy.”</p><p>Tommy sighed happily and snuggled down into the bed.</p><p>Gordon willed his pulse to relax. He took a couple of slow breaths, imagining every part of his body shutting down for the night. After a few minutes, Gordon fell asleep, comforted by the warm weight of Tommy against his side and Sunkist at his feet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>gordon: this is my boyfriend tommy. and this is tommys boyfriend darnold</p><p>also, the art piece that gordon mentions at the beginning is real! it's called <a href="https://www.moma.org/calendar/events/3216">a lot of sorrow</a>, it was a durational performance by the national in collaboration with the artist ragnar kjartansson</p><p>i think there will be frenrey, or at least the beginnings of frenrey, next chapter. i just really love tommy coolatta ok</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tommy and darnold convince gordon to just go talk to benrey already!! over brunch.</p><p>theres a little bit of casual drinking in this chapter!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Gordon’s surprise, the next morning wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, it was really...comfortable. Tommy whipped up a batch of pancakes while Darnold juiced oranges and made mimosas. And if Gordon happened to blush furiously as Tommy danced by in his boxers and kissed him on the cheek, so what? Darnold just winked at him and refilled his glass.</p><p>When they had all finished breakfast, Tommy placed his chin in his hands and gave Gordon a Look.</p><p>“So,” Tommy said. “You and Benrey.”</p><p>Gordon hunched his shoulders. “I really don’t wanna talk to him, Tommy,” he said.</p><p>“Just <em> try</em>.”</p><p>Gordon sighed, sliding down in his seat. “I mean...at the very least maybe we can, like, pick different days to do stuff so I don’t have to see him around anymore? Huh, actually...d’you think he would go for that?”</p><p>Tommy looked at Darnold for help. Darnold shrugged.</p><p>“That’s not the, uh—that’s not what I had in mind, but...okay,” Tommy said. “Just be, um, just try to be <em> empathetic.” </em></p><p>Gordon frowned. “He’s never been empathetic to <em> me! </em> How come I have to be the one to—” he caught sight of Tommy’s face and bit back the rest of his tirade. He sighed again. <em>“Fine. </em> Fine! But if everything goes to shit, <em> again, </em> that’s not on me.”</p><p>“Well, what if it goes okay?” Darnold said.</p><p>Gordon blinked.</p><p>Darnold spread his hands. “I mean, what if he’s, you know, chill about it?”</p><p>“There’s no way,” Gordon said. “Believe me. It’s not gonna happen. I <em> know </em> how he is, I don’t think, like—Benrey has never been chill a day in his life.”</p><p>“Neither have you,” Tommy pointed out.</p><p>“It’s different! I have real problems! I didn’t try to <em> kill </em> anyone!”</p><p>“Well, you—you’re still alive!” Tommy said, slapping his hands down on the table. “And so is he, and he has—his problems are real too, so I think you both need to be—just be <em> nice </em> to each other!”</p><p>Gordon was stunned. He stared at Tommy.</p><p>Tommy put his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. Darnold put a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“I’m—I’m sorry I shouted,” Tommy stage-whispered through his hands.</p><p>Gordon shook his head, then cleared his throat. “No, it’s—it’s okay,” he said. He reached across the table, holding his hand out.</p><p>Tommy looked at Gordon’s hand, then up at Gordon. At Gordon’s nod, Tommy took his hands off his face, wrapping them around Gordon’s hand instead.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Gordon said. “You’re—” He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I <em> should </em> talk to Benrey. I’m just—I’m really scared, you know?”</p><p>Tommy nodded, seemingly nervous about saying anything else out loud. Darnold rubbed little circles into Tommy’s back with his thumb.</p><p>“What are you scared of?” Darnold asked Gordon, his voice gentle.</p><p>“Like—” Gordon sighed, looking up at the ceiling as he thought about it. “I don’t know? I guess, like. What if he. Comes after me again? Or comes after you? What if he’s…” Gordon trailed off, seeming to come to a realization.</p><p>“What if he’s...what?” Darnold asked.</p><p>“Uh. This is so stupid,” Gordon said, closing his eyes tightly. “But what if he...hates me?”</p><p>Darnold and Tommy exchanged glances.</p><p>“So what if he does?” Darnold asked.</p><p>Gordon opened his eyes, and his expression soured. “I—” he stopped himself.</p><p>“Do you—do you hate him?” Tommy asked, squeezing Gordon’s hand.</p><p>“No,” Gordon said. It kind of surprised him, if he was being honest with himself, but it was true.</p><p>Tommy <em> hmm’ </em>ed.</p><p>“I mean I’m—I’m really fucking <em> pissed</em>,” Gordon. “God. Yeah. I’m <em> so </em> mad at him. But I don’t, uh. I don’t think I hate him? Fuck, is that weird?”</p><p>“No, it’s because you care about him!” Tommy said. “Because he’s your—your friend and you care.”</p><p>Gordon thought about it. Was Benrey his friend? Maybe, once. He was annoying as hell. But yeah, sure. They had—had kinda been friends. Gordon remembered what Tommy had said the night before, about how Gordon hadn’t been nice to Benrey either.</p><p>“Hey, uh. Tommy. Darnold,” Gordon said, mouth suddenly dry. “Am I—am I a bad friend?”</p><p>“No!” Tommy said, shaking his head aggressively. “No way!”</p><p>“Yeah, no,” Darnold said. “And if I can be honest with you? Sometimes...well, I mean, sometimes we all get caught up in stuff, you know? But you seem like you’re trying really hard to get, uh, to get un-caught. I know you’re a good dad, and a good friend. Like, I know you make Tommy really happy.”</p><p>“Yes!” Tommy nodded, equally as aggressively.</p><p>“And, uh, your friends…” Darnold paused to collect his words. “Your friends should understand. When that stuff happens. I know I do.”</p><p>Gordon nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. It might have been the mimosas, but he felt—raw. Vulnerable. Well, he didn’t think it was the mimosas.</p><p>“Just be honest with him,” said Tommy. “Even if—even if it’s hard. He’ll understand.”</p><p>Gordon swallowed. “Thanks,” he said. “I really hope you’re right. Also, I—I really appreciate, uh. Both of you. I’m sorry for being like this.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Tommy said. “You don’t have to apologize.”</p><p>Gordon shrugged, feeling helpless. “I just feel so...so fucked up.”</p><p>“Yeah. We all kinda went through a lot,” Darnold said. “I gave you a gun hand. Benrey fucked up, like, multiple years’ worth of invaluable soda data. Our workplace, uh, doesn’t really exist anymore? I think most of us are probably gonna be pretty messed up about things for a while.”</p><p>“That’s why we have to rely on each other,” Tommy piped up.</p><p>“Yeah, I…” Gordon blushed, and took a deep breath. “Yeah. You’re both right. Uh, thanks. I guess I’ll...I mean, I can try to talk to him tonight? Maybe?”</p><p>“You can come over after,” Darnold said. “If you want to.”</p><p>Gordon thought about it. He did want to, but… “I might need. Space? I’m not sure. But I really...would like to come over again. I like to, uh. I like to be—I like to spend time with you,” he finished, a little awkwardly.</p><p>“Well, us too! You’re welcome anytime,” Tommy said. Darnold nodded in agreement.</p><p>Gordon was a little surprised to realize that he felt <em> happy, </em> genuinely happy. Sure, his life was still kind of in shambles, but Tommy and Darnold made him feel—safe. Wanted. He blushed.</p><p>“I should. Uh. I gotta go home to shower and stuff,” Gordon said. “And I have to call Joshua today. He said he was gonna tell me about the pottery class he started.”</p><p>“Actually, I have to run a couple errands,” Darnold said. “I can drop you off.”</p><p>“Oh, shit. Yeah, that’d be cool, actually. Thanks.” Gordon moved to get up, but Tommy was still holding his hand. He locked eyes with Tommy, who squeezed his hand once, tightly, then let him go with a little smile. Gordon’s heart did a flip in his chest. He turned around and went to grab his stuff.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>gonna have another chapter up later 2nite since i promised gordo/benrey interaction! thankz 4 reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon and benrey finally have their talk at the pinball bar.</p><p>this chapter takes place in a bar, and gordon and benrey both drink. benrey mentions very briefly that he drinks as a coping mechanism.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon took a deep breath, standing on the sidewalk across the street from the <em>fucking</em> <em>stupid</em> pinball laundromat. He hated this place. He hated it! He had always preferred to do his laundry at the other place on the corner, where the lady who ran it was always speaking Spanish with the other customers. She always greeted him when he entered, and would give him an extra quarter for the dryer if he was short. One time she had saved a sock that Gordon had accidentally left behind for two weeks. She reminded him of his aunts. But places like the pinball laundromat were moving in, the neighborhood was skewing younger and whiter every year, and Gordon felt like there was nothing he could do. Fucking gentrification. Fucking <em>capitalism.</em> Standing there, Gordon resolved for the millionth time to get involved with some local organizers. He had a lot more time on his hands now, anyway. Might as well do something useful. He sighed. Alright, well… Time to go see if Benrey was hanging out in the gentrifier bar.</p><p>He crossed the street, pushed the door open, and went through to the back. It was slightly more crowded than the last time Gordon had been there, though that wasn’t saying much. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the dim bar lighting. It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. The sounds of the washing machines were a layered hum underneath the endless <em> pings </em> and <em> zaps </em> of the pinball machines. Fuck, maybe Benrey wasn’t even here. Why had he assumed Benrey would just <em> be </em>here? God. He probably had a regular life, unlike Gordon. Maybe he had friends he was hanging out with. Shit, or family! Gordon felt stupid for assuming, and embarrassed about the whole thing. He turned to leave the way he came in—and smacked right into Benrey.</p><p>“Fuck!” Gordon said, jumping back like he’d been burned.</p><p>Benrey raised a hand in a half-wave, but didn’t say anything. He moved to push past Gordon.</p><p>“Wait, wait—Benrey!”</p><p>Benrey just looked at him.</p><p>“Uh, hi?” Gordon started, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey.”</p><p>“I really don’t wanna do this, bro,” Benrey said.</p><p>“Huh?” Gordon blinked. “Do—do what?”</p><p>Benrey seemed to look past Gordon. “I’m just here to play pinball? Don’t need you to be—uh, be all getting mad at me for nothing. ‘S not very epic. Anti-poggers.”</p><p>“<em>Anti-p</em>—wait, no, hang on. Benrey, I—look, I’m sorry, man. Seriously.”</p><p>“Yeah, hilarious,” Benrey was stone-faced. “Uh, leave me alone, please?”</p><p>“H—I’m trying to <em> apologize! </em> For real! And, uh, I wanna, um. Talk to you, I guess?”</p><p>Benrey shrugged, eyes still focused on a spot somewhere behind Gordon’s head. “That’s cool, I don’t really wanna talk to you, though?”</p><p>Gordon gritted his teeth. “Why not?”</p><p>Benrey didn’t say anything for a long moment.</p><p>“Uh—Benrey, are you—you okay?”</p><p>“Not really, bro. Lol.”</p><p>Gordon frowned. “Because of me?”</p><p>Benrey shifted his weight. “Haha. Maybe? I dunno. You’ve kinda been, like. I’ve seen you around, like, doing stuff. And uh. I’ve been a cool. But you’re, uh—been mean. Gordon Meanman.”</p><p>“Look, I—” Gordon sighed. “Yeah, okay? I know. Gordon Meanman. Can I—can I buy you a drink, or something? We’re blocking the hallway, man.”</p><p>Benrey thought about it, then opened his mouth and a couple bubbles of teal and pink floated out. He seemed to deflate a little. “Yeah, alright.” He turned and headed towards the bar, not waiting to see if Gordon was following.</p><p>Gordon flagged down the bartender. “Hey, can I get, um…one Narragansett and one, uh…” He looked at Benrey. “Uh, one of whatever he wants.”</p><p>Benrey drummed his fingers on the bar. “One Pinball Wizard, please?”</p><p>Gordon quirked an eyebrow. <em> Pinball Wizard? </em> Okay. Sure. He watched as the bartender poured his beer, then started working on something that looked...complicated, and probably expensive. Fuckin’ figured. The bartender finished off the monstrosity of a cocktail with a little party umbrella before handing it off to Benrey. Gordon shook his head and handed his card over to pay. Once the tab was settled, Gordon gestured towards an empty table off to the side, away from the bar and from most of the pinball machines. Benrey nodded, and they both walked over and sat down.</p><p>“God, I hate this place,” Gordon said under his breath.</p><p>Benrey fidgeted in his seat.</p><p>Gordon cleared his throat. “Look, Benrey, I...I meant what I said before,” he said. “I’m sorry. For, uh, for being mean to you. Especially since, uh—” <em> Since we both lived through hell, basically. </em> “Since...everything that happened at Black Mesa. I just, uh—I thought you—well.” He took a swig of his beer to cover the awkward pause.</p><p>Benrey fiddled with the paper umbrella. “Thought ol’ Benny-boy was a goner, didn’t’cha?”</p><p>Gordon coughed, feeling beer go up his nose. “I mean—kind of. Yeah. Thought you, uh. Died.”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. Think I did. For a bit. Not poggers.” Benrey didn’t elaborate.</p><p>Gordon wheezed. “Yeah, that, uh, doesn’t sound like it would be very poggers.”</p><p>Benrey finally looked at Gordon. “Why’d you do it?”</p><p>“Uh…” Gordon flushed. “I don’t...I don’t know. It just, um, felt like I was...supposed to.”</p><p>“Huh.” Benrey sat back in his chair and took a sip from his drink. “Yeah.”</p><p>Gordon put his beer down, frowning a little. “Benrey, dude—you got my <em> hand cut off</em>. I was really mad about that.”</p><p>“Whuh?” Benrey took a second. “Oh. That wasn’t—um. Wasn’t supposed to happen. Got fixed though, right?” He nodded at Gordon’s hand, which was conspicuously not missing.</p><p>“Well, yeah, but—I dunno. Sometimes I still feel like—it still <em> hurts</em>. Like I wake up ‘cause I can feel them cutting it <em> off—</em>” Gordon shivered. “Um. Anyway.”</p><p>Benrey blinked, staring at the floor. “They told me, um. Said it wouldn’t hurt,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean. Fucked up.”</p><p>Gordon felt like the worst person in the world. “It’s—it’s okay,” he said. “I mean, not really but—it’s not really your fault, like you didn’t <em> do </em>it. I’m sorry for blaming it all on you.”</p><p>“‘S kinda my fault,” Benrey said.</p><p>Gordon shrugged. He took another awkward sip of beer. After a minute, he asked the question that had been burning in the back of his mind, his voice almost too quiet to hear over the din of the bar. “Why’d you try to kill us, man?”</p><p>Benrey kicked at the table legs. “Told me I was s’posed to,” he said finally. “But I didn’t want to. Wouldn’t’ve. I told you.”</p><p>“Huh?” It was Gordon’s turn to be confused. “But—you <em> did</em>. That, like, happened.”</p><p>Benrey’s hand shot forward and clasped Gordon’s where it rested on the table. “No, I <em> told </em> you! I had to—had to shoot you ‘cause <em> you </em> wouldn’t stop shooting at <em> me!” </em></p><p>Gordon barked out a sharp laugh. “Oh, so what, like if we had stopped, you would’ve just—stopped attacking us, or—”</p><p>Benrey was staring at him, completely serious. His grip on Gordon’s hand was like a vise. Gordon’s voice died in his throat.</p><p>“You’re—you’re serious?” Gordon said, almost in a whisper.</p><p>Benrey’s eyes were wide. He nodded, just slightly. “Cheat code,” he said. “Skip the—skip through the boss fight. No one fights. So we all win. Game over.”</p><p>Gordon looked at their hands, together on the table. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>“Fuck!” he said out loud.</p><p>“Fuck,” Benrey agreed.</p><p>Gordon started to laugh, just a giggle at first, but becoming more and more desperate as Gordon realized the total absurdity of the situation. Benrey just stared at him, still gripping his hand like his life depended on it.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” Benrey asked eventually, once Gordon’s laughter had petered out to an occasional hiccup. “You alright, man?”</p><p>Gordon wiped a tear from his eye with the hand that Benrey wasn’t holding. “Not really, no.”</p><p>Benrey nodded. “Cool.”</p><p>“Can I, um—can I have my hand back?”</p><p>“Whuh?” Benrey stared at him. “Oh. Yeah.” He pulled his hand back so fast he almost knocked his drink over.</p><p>Gordon nodded at the drink. “What’s in that, anyway?”</p><p>Benrey squinted at it. “Uh, blue? Tastes, um. Bad.”</p><p>Gordon had to stifle another laugh. “Wha—why’re you drinking it?”</p><p>Benrey shrugged. “Makes my head, uh. Soft. Helps with, uh...too many thoughts.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound, uh…” <em> Healthy? Safe? Responsible? </em>Gordon thought about his own sad-sack life and decided that passing any sort of judgment would be pretty hypocritical. “Don’t you have, um—someone you can talk to? About—just about whatever?”</p><p>“Nah.” Benrey shook his head. “Just me in my epic gamer pad. Uh, rate my setup.”</p><p>Gordon blinked. “Dude, that—that setup sucks.” </p><p>“Yeah, well. Don’t have, uh. Dunno where my friends are. Guess they’re too busy being le epic to hang out. Also my, uh, my PlayStation Plus subscription ran out, and Mr. Tommy’s Dad didn’t wanna give me the voucher for the free trial even though I asked real nice. So. Yeah.”</p><p>Gordon didn’t know what to say. Benrey downed the rest of his drink and then opened his mouth, letting a bubble of sickly yellow Sweet Voice float out. It drifted past Gordon’s head and then popped, leaving a faint but bitter smell in its wake.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” Gordon said, trying not to sound too worried. “Where do you...um, do you live around here?”</p><p>“Huh? Oh yeah,” Benrey said. “I live around the block.” He gestured with his hand, curving it in one direction, then the other. “That way.”</p><p>Gordon couldn’t believe it. “Dude, I literally live, like, three blocks down. You’ve seriously—I can’t believe we were this close to each other the whole time. It’s so weird we didn’t see each other <em> more </em>. Though I guess I...haven’t been going out that much,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.</p><p>“I still have your underwear, bro,” Benrey said suddenly. “Your little—the Black Mesa briefs. Fuckin’, uh. Nerd ass. Literally you have a nerd ass.”</p><p>Gordon felt his face get red. “What the fuck, dude? You kept those?”</p><p>Benrey looked at him, expression blank. “You don’t want ‘em back?”</p><p>“I—I don’t know! That’s kinda weird, man. Why do you have my underwear?”</p><p>Benrey shrugged. “You can come over ‘n grab em. If you want. ‘S not like I can keep them, your ass is—it’s kinda small, bro. No offense.”</p><p>“Wh—my ass is <em> not </em>small! I have a—lots of people have told me I have a good ass!”</p><p>“I didn’t say it was <em> bad</em>,” Benrey sounded stricken. He drew the word out so it had two syllables: bad-<em>uh</em>.</p><p>Gordon opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Okay, you know what? I don’t wanna have this conversation anymore. Yes, I will come get my underwear. If you find any of my underwear again, you can, uh, just leave them on the ground, it’s fine.” Benrey opened his mouth as if to protest, but Gordon cut him off. “No, I’m serious. It’s <em> fine.” </em></p><p>“Cool, cool, cool,” Benrey mumbled.</p><p>Gordon eyed the beer still left in his glass, decided he was done, and stood up.</p><p>“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”</p><p>Benrey stood up, looked at Gordon, and burped out some teal Sweet Voice.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, we can get McDonald’s on the way over.”</p><p>“Nice.”</p><p>Gordon stifled a laugh. It was like—he felt almost the way he had when the Science Team had first banded together (minus the aliens and murder). Like, even though things were definitely <em> weird</em>, that it was okay. He felt lighter than he had in ages. He waited for Benrey to finish folding up the paper umbrella from his drink and shove it into his pocket. Gordon pushed his chair in, and both of them headed for the door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sweet voice translations:</p><p>teal to pink means "i need to think"</p><p>sickly yellow means "im a lonely fellow"</p><p>and, obviously, teal means need meal. LOL</p><p>idk if i ever said this but the pinball bar is a real place and ive been there. the vibes are kinda wack!! anyway tysm everyone for reading, i literally had no idea this fic would end up being nearly 10k words when i started.. like thats ridiculous to me. anywayyyy yeah pls kudos/comment if u enjoy, i try to reply to most comments but even if i dont i rly appreciate them all &lt;3 will hopefully try to wrap this bad boy up within a couple of chapters cause i wanna work on some other stuff haha</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon and benrey hang out in benreys apartment and have a serious talk over some mcdonalds nuggies</p><p>gordon and benrey smoke weed this chap. also contains spoilers for the movie face/off dgbdfjg god please watch the movie face/off</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon watched Benrey fumble his keys at the doorstep. He stepped over the threshold, stopping in the hallway to take off his shoes.</p><p>“So, uh. This is it. Home sweet home,” Benrey said, sweeping his arm sideways.</p><p>Gordon pushed past him, making a beeline for the living room so he could put their food down on the coffee table. It was, shockingly, a super normal-looking apartment. Benrey had furniture and there were prints and photos on the walls. There were no empty pizza boxes stacked up next to the trash can, no random piles of stuff on the table… It was more put together than Gordon’s own apartment was.</p><p>“Nice place, man,” Gordon said, flopping onto the couch.</p><p>Benrey scratched the back of his neck, coming over to join Gordon. “It’s alright.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a minute, neither of them really knowing what to say now that they found themselves here.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” Gordon said, a little awkwardly. “Sorry. If this is weird. Does this feel weird to you?”</p><p>“You’re weird,” Benrey said reflexively. “Yeah though.”</p><p>Gordon snorted, then shifted in his seat. “Sorry,” he said again.</p><p>“No, it’s,” Benrey started, then stopped.</p><p>Gordon nodded. “I don’t mean this in a mean way, but… I can leave, man. If you need me to, I mean. I feel like—like my vibes are just totally wacked out right now… Do—d’you want me to go?”</p><p>Benrey shrugged. “You’re, uh, you’re your own person.”</p><p>“Well, like,” Gordon struggled. “I dunno. I just feel, like, nervous? Or something.”</p><p>“Yeah, like,” Benrey said. “Feels weird. Chillin on the couch with the guy who killed me. Haha. Two bros, sittin’ in my living room, three feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay.”</p><p>Gordon bit the inside of his cheek a little too hard and tasted copper.</p><p>“Oh yo can you pass the nugs?” Benrey nudged at Gordon’s ankle with his foot.</p><p>Taking that to mean that Benrey wanted him to stay, Gordon heaved himself forward with a sigh, rummaging around in the paper bag and pulling out the 40-piece they were sharing.</p><p>“Hell yeah,” Benrey said, voice muffled as he shoved two nuggets in his mouth at once.</p><p>Gordon stifled a laugh. “Wha—come on, dude. You’re gonna choke.”</p><p>Benrey put another two nuggets in his mouth. “Nuh-uh,” he said, crumbs spraying out of his mouth.</p><p>“Augh! Gross!” Gordon laughed in earnest, wiping at his pants frantically. “Well, fine, but I’m not giving you the Heimlich if something happens.”</p><p>Benrey swallowed his food. “It’s okay. You, uh, you killed me. Already. So don’t worry about it.” He stopped, then after a second, added: “Haha.”</p><p>Gordon frowned, flopping back into the couch. “That’s—I don’t—man, don’t joke about that, okay? It’s not funny.”</p><p>Benrey shrugged. “It’s a little funny. Benny cringe comp.” When Gordon didn’t say anything, Benrey leaned back too, tapping his knee against Gordon’s. “Hey, uh. ‘M sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean anything. It’s just jokes, like…” he trailed off, then recovered his train of thought. “Uh, like. ‘Cause I came back. So it’s okay. No Sad Feetman Moments on my couch, please.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Gordon said automatically.</p><p>Benrey bumped their knees together again. “Feetman.”</p><p>Gordon reached over, slapping at him halfheartedly. “I hate you.”</p><p>“You don’t,” Benrey said. His tone stayed even, but Gordon felt him tense up.</p><p>“Nah,” Gordon confirmed. “Kinda weird to say it, but...I don’t think I could if I tried.”</p><p>Benrey relaxed. “Sick. Epic. Uh, poggers. Pogchamp. Um, for the win. Uh—”</p><p>“Oh my god, shut up,” Gordon slapped at him again, but there was no malice in his voice. “Anyway. Yeah. I really...I dunno. I’ve got a lot of weird feelings, about everything. It’s not like I wanted to end up hurting you, you know? Just...the whole thing, with my hand—I mean, it’s not about my hand, I think. But it was like—” He paused. “I dunno. I <em> trusted </em> you, and I trusted Bubby. But that was, like...I couldn’t…” Gordon stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath. “I know you didn’t know. And I forgive you! Really. I do. But I can’t help still thinking about it, even if I don’t want to… I don’t know. I’m still processing—uh, everything. Just, I forgive you. And, uh—I’m sorry for what I did to hurt you, too. I was really fucking scared, and—I dunno. I never thought about whether you were scared, too. Anyway, I—I’m glad you’re back. I kinda wasn’t before, but I was being a dick. And actually, it’s good. To be here. With you.”</p><p>When Benrey didn’t answer, Gordon sat up a little, his hand finding its way to Benrey’s knee and squeezing gently.</p><p>“Hey. No Sad Benrey Moments on the couch.”</p><p>Benrey opened his mouth, letting out some deep pink to navy blue Sweet Voice.</p><p>“Hey,” Gordon said again, and sat up the rest of the way to look at him. “C’mon. It’s—it’s okay. We’re cool.”</p><p>Benrey covered his face with one hand. “Bro, I’m, like… I’m not good at the, uh. Emotions. Talking.”</p><p>Gordon felt fondness bloom in his chest. “Yeah, I know. It’s cool, man.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I wanna—uh—” Benrey kept his face covered, mumbling into his hand. “Look, I’m. I’m really—this feels, um. Don’t like this color.”</p><p>Gordon’s hand was still resting on Benrey’s knee. He stroked it softly with his thumb.</p><p>After a minute, Benrey lifted his hand and blinked at Gordon. “‘Scuse me, sir, that’s, uh. Hello?”</p><p>Gordon sensed that something about the moment had shifted. “Two bros, sittin’ in your living room,” he intoned.</p><p>“Oh, uh.” Benrey finally sat up. “Huh. Okay. Gordon Gayman.”</p><p>Gordon shrugged, heart pounding. “I mean...yeah? So?”</p><p>Benrey stared at him, then reached for the box of chicken nuggets and shoved a handful of them into his mouth at once.</p><p>Gordon wheezed. “What the fuck?”</p><p>“Wanna kiss?” Benrey asked, mouth completely full and making it come out more like <em> Wanna kish? </em></p><p>“Wha—no!” Gordon laughed. “Not with food in your mouth, that’s—ugh, that’s so gross, dude. Oh my god. What’s wrong with you?”</p><p>Benrey swallowed with an audible <em> gulp. </em> “Okay uh—but there’s no more food in my mouth?”</p><p>Gordon shook his head. “That was pretty nasty, man.”</p><p>Benrey shrugged. “I know you are but what am I.”</p><p>Gordon gave a long-suffering sigh.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” Benrey started. “So we’re, um. We’re cool? For real? Even with the, your. Hand. And my, um. The everything.”</p><p>Gordon nodded. “Yeah. We are.”</p><p>Benrey nodded, too. “Nice. Cool. Um—I still feel, uh, bad colors. But maybe, uh, less. For now.”</p><p>“Yeah, I…” Gordon gathered his thoughts. “I’ve been pretty messed up for a while, man, not gonna lie. It’s not like I’m suddenly <em> over </em> it, or anything, just...being with people helps. Talking about it helps. Sometimes you have to let yourself feel it, so you can get through it. And it sucks! It <em> really </em> fucking sucks. But you’ll get through it, man. I promise.”</p><p>Benrey spat out a purple Sweet Voice bubble. “You wanna, uhh. Smoke weed about it?”</p><p>Gordon barely had to think about it. “You know what, that’s like the <em> only </em> thing I wanna do right now.”</p><p>“Sweet,” Benrey said. “I’ll get my stuff.” He stood up, tossing the TV remote at Gordon. “Find a movie.”</p><p>By the time Benrey got back, Gordon was well and truly engrossed in <em> Face/Off</em>.</p><p>“Hell yeah,” Benrey said, blowing out smoke as the doctors took Nic Cage’s face...off.</p><p>“Hell yeah,” Gordon agreed before taking a hit off the pipe Benrey offered him.</p><p>The box of nuggets slowly emptied out over the course of the movie. Every time Gordon’s fingers accidentally brushed Benrey’s as they both went in for a nugget it felt like he was touching a live wire. At some point, Benrey’s knee ended up pressed up against Gordon’s again.</p><p>“Hey,” Benrey said, then cleared his throat. On screen, John Travolta (playing Nic Cage playing John Travolta) was attending Lazarro’s funeral, and Nic Cage (playing John Travolta playing Nic Cage) was preparing to storm it. It took a monumental effort for Gordon to turn his head and look at him.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Wanna ‘nother hit?” Gordon could <em> feel </em> the smile in Benrey’s voice with his whole body. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, in a not-unpleasant way.</p><p>“Yeah, sure, man,” Gordon said. “Pass the—pass it over.” He gestured for the pipe.</p><p>Benrey shook his head. “No, I mean. I’ll give you the, uh. C’mere.” He made grabby hands at Gordon, puckering his lips and pretending to blow air towards him. “Fwoo.”</p><p>Gordon’s heart fluttered. “O-oh. Okay. Yeah. Lemme just—okay. Hang on.” He concentrated, then turned and leaned forward so he was facing Benrey. Benrey scrambled to sit up straight.</p><p>“You done this before?” Benrey asked.</p><p>“Not since, uh. Not since MIT,” Gordon answered truthfully.</p><p>“Oh shit, the nerds were smoking up? Respect.”</p><p>Gordon snorted. “College is college, man.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t know. Okay, uh—breathe out, please?”</p><p>Gordon exhaled as Benrey took a deep drag, then leaned in so Benrey could press their lips together, inhaling the smoke that Benrey breathed into his mouth. Dimly, he was aware of Benrey’s hands; one pressed against his thigh for balance, the other cupped the back of his neck. A flock of doves erupted across the screen.</p><p>When they broke apart, Benrey’s breathing was a little ragged. “Wait,” he said. “Gimme some of that back.” He leaned in and kissed Gordon.</p><p>Gordon, who hadn’t exhaled yet, started coughing. Benrey pulled away with a laugh. “Asshole,” Gordon croaked. “Fuckin’...hate you.”</p><p>“You don’t,” Benrey said.</p><p>Gordon grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him in for another, <em> actual </em> kiss. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” Benrey opened his mouth, but Gordon interrupted him. “Do <em> not </em> say poggers right now, Benrey, I swear. I swear to god.”</p><p>Benrey grinned. “Gayass. Gordon, uh. Gordon Fruitman.”</p><p>“Me? <em> You’re </em> the one who—” Gordon rolled his eyes. “You know, it never ends with you, does it?”</p><p>“Whuh?” Benrey’s eyes had drifted back to the movie. “Uh. No. Wanna kiss more though?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gordon said, and kissed him again. “Hmm. I think you wanna watch Nicolas Cage and John Travolta beating each other up more than you wanna kiss me right now, though.”</p><p>Benrey gave half a nod, then stopped and shook his head. “No. Uh—you don’t know.”</p><p>Gordon laughed. “It’s cool. It’s a good movie.” He leaned back, pulling Benrey down to settle against his chest. Benrey wiggled until he was comfortable, then sighed out some mauve Sweet Voice and buried his face in Gordon’s neck. Nic Cage stabbed John Travolta with a harpoon gun and collapsed into the sand. Gordon tightened his arms around Benrey. By the time John Travolta (finally only playing John Travolta once again) was kissing Joan Allen, both of them were fast asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>deepest pink to navy blue means "i dont think i deserve you"<br/>purple ("like the evening of a spring evening" implied) means hes okay<br/>mauve means "im in love" !</p><p>also sorry this chapter took a long time just been busy w life stuff! this is kinda my "im a huge gay and i love to project" fic lol but also ! consider perhaps reading my other recent fic <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912480">I am that I am; this shall be My name forever</a> its more serious precanon bubby centric fic and i like. wrote it in a fugue state but im seriously proud of it so consider checking it out!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i dont know where im going but im gay. not sure how regularly ill update but i will try bc hlvrai is seriously living rent free in my head rn and i loveeee projecting all my brain shit onto gordon. title is from "sea within a sea" by the horrors--you can listen to my wip frenrey playlist <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6f4H1fbtd3gzSmcZviAZd0?si=7d1h7PNEQ_ixyu-qPaocfQ">here</a>. also my hlvrai tumblr sideblog is <a href="https://jewishbubby.tumblr.com/">jewishbubby</a> if u wanna chat!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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